


A Letter To A Friend

by felilivargas



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Letter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 19:43:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8115100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felilivargas/pseuds/felilivargas
Summary: The Doctor, scared Starfleet might delete his program, writes a letter to Captain Janeway. This was written shortly after Voyager made it back to Earth, but before they'd docked and the crew had left the ship. (The tag major character death is used rather liberally here; the Doctor doesn't die, he just suspects he will to enough of an extent that I thought it was necessary.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is based in part off the song Vivi by Hachi.

I never told you I loved you. It just wasn't proper.

I know you, Captain. You might be friends, even close friends, with some of your crew, but you'd never initiate a relationship with them. Maybe you're just being faithful to your partner, but I don't think it's just that. You're the captain of a starship; I'm the emergency medical holographic doctor. Even if you loved me, we could never pursue it.

If I'm honest with you, and myself, I'm scared. I trust you to try your hardest to make Starfleet recognize me as a person, but I don't trust Starfleet to listen to you. Don't forget, Captain, how long it took you and the rest of the crew to warm up to me and treat me like a person; you have my trust, but it was hard earned. But, Captain, if I'm honest with you... I'm a little scared to step off Voyager in general.

I know you and the rest of the crew miss Earth, but a part of me can't help but wish our journey were longer. It's a selfish wish, but it's still a wish, nevertheless. You must remember, Captain, that I'm not a Starfleet officer, but a part of the ship's safety hardware. I've only been activated for seven years, and I spent them all on this ship, some of them not even leaving sickbay. The way you yearn, and yet fear, to venture out into the stars, I feel to see Earth. It's not my home, but yours, and it's alien to me as much as I am an alien to it.

But Captain, despite my trepidation, the prospect of seeing Earth excites me. I've seen it on the Holodeck, of course, but I'd love to see the real thing, and explore it. I want to watch the skyscrapers of New York City and the Sequoia trees of California arch above me into the cosmos. I want to stare out before canyons and valleys and seas and citiscapes and watch the land unfold before me from above, as if staring at a map. I want to see the morning coastal fog envelop the beach, and the sun fall lethargically below the horizon in the evening.

And I think more than anything... I want to see it with you.

Captain... I want to sit inside cafes with you with cups of hot coffee as steely rain falls in blankets on the street outside. I want to see your face dappled in sun and shadow like watercolors as the trees of a thick forest shade us from the daylight. I want to hold your hand in a crowded city for fear of letting go and having to search for you amongst the sea of people from every nation, planet, and quadrant (even though we'd find each other in the end, and embrace in the street from relief.) I want to watch fog as gray as your eyes roll in over the ocean, and see your hair, whipping in the wind, light up the gray with a warm brown like nutmeg. I want to hold your hand as you lean your head against mine as we watch the curtains open in the Vienna Opera House, and the music fills with music, swirling through the air like my love for you flows through me. I want to experience Earth with you.

And I know I'll never get that. Because I'll never give you this letter, because I'm a lot more capable of fear than I want to admit to myself. Because I could confront my grief for Kes, and get over my love for Seven, but even now, I'm scared to admit my love for you. Because even if I did, you don't love me, and I don't blame you. You're a human; I'm a holoprogram. Humans don't love holoprograms.

Captain, if you find this letter, because at this point I don't think I'm going to give it to you, it means you've been looking through my personal files. Knowing that you wouldn't look through those without my consent, and that I probably wouldn't let you see this, it means that for whatever reason, Starfleet has permanently deactivated me, or even deleted me. Either that, or I am terminally ill, and I'm likely soon to “die” in a holographic sense anyways. So, Captain, I want you to know posthumously: I love you. I've loved you for a long time, and I didn't know what to do with it, so I suppressed it and acted in a solely professional manner towards you, as you had done to me. I'm not upset that I won't be able to pursue a relationship with you… okay, I am, but even if I did, I'd be too scared to do very much with it. But maybe I'm not scared of loving you after all anymore.

Captain, all I ask is that if you're reading this because they're deleting my program, but I'm not deleted yet, activate me one last time. Wherever I am. If they don't let you, tell them you were the captain of my ship and you want to speak with me again, or whatever it'll take. Just let me say goodbye to you.

But, if you're reading this after I've been deleted, or my program has otherwise been destroyed, through a virus or anything else… Consider this a goodbye, and send the crew my regards, too.

I love you, Captain. Thank you for being my friend, and encouraging me and giving me the freedom to learn and grow and become the person I am today. If this is the end of my life, I want you to know that you gave it meaning, and… if you hadn't let me grow, I don't think I'd be this scared to die.

Thank you for my life,

The Doctor


End file.
